McCabe Page 22

  She was about to take a quick, closer look when the illuminated door across from her slid open to reveal a shadow. For a moment, Rowena thought it was McCabe who stood there, but then she heard the telltale chuckle, and her blood turned to ice water.

  “There you are,” James said softly. He advanced into the room. “The woman I loved. The woman I thought loved me.” He tossed a glance at Bert on his left but didn’t speak to her. Rowena felt the weight of his stare return, felt his eyes explore her face. “So very beautiful.”

  She’d been sitting back on her heels. Now she pushed herself to her knees. James smiled and came to crouch in front of her. He wore a hat with a wider brim then usual tonight. Only his mouth and chin were visible to her, and even then, only dimly.

  “Incredibly soft skin.” Reaching out, he brought her head up, grazing her cheek with his thumb. “Peaches and cream I believe is the term people use to describe such lovely skin. Peaches are such a delicate fruit, Rowena. Easily sliced by a sharp knife.” He revealed his teeth to her, like a hungry wolf. “My knives are all razor sharp.” He pressed his thumb hard into her chin before letting his hand fall way. “McCabe’s on his way. I left him a note, told him where we’d be. I can see you’ve met Bert in the meantime. Don’t let her inherently sweet expressions fool you. She’s really a tough old broad inside. Sometimes a bitch, but infinitely preferable to her simpering alter ego. I’m sure you understand that Robbie was never my mother. She thought she was but, no.”

  Robbie as Bert tapped his shoulder from behind with her gun. “That’s enough chitchat. I assume you left McCabe an open invitation upstairs.”

  James’s mouth took on a sarcastic sneer. “No, I thought locking him out would be more fun… Although…” He cocked his head in consideration. “It might be enjoyable to watch.”

  “James!”

  “Fine. Yes, the way in is clear.”

  Astonishment over James’s almost contrite response to Bert’s admonishment leaked through Rowena’s terror. Sadly, it only lasted a moment. McCabe was coming. And what choice would he have except to walk into a trap?

  Beyond the door, they all heard a swish. James smiled, stood. “Mama, your boy’s gonna be bad tonight.” He said it with a twang and, bending down, gave Rowena’s cheek a hard pinch. “Don’t you fret none, honey. I’ll get to you shortly.” He straightened. The twang vanished. “Well, hey there, McCabe. Here we are again, only this time, I’m the one holding all the cards.”

  “Most of them.” McCabe materialized from the shadows of the doorway, wearing his usual ball cap, T-shirt, and jeans. His shirt was black tonight. James’s was white. Reverse symbolism?

  When James turned, she climbed to her feet. Robbie watched her but remained silent.

  “You do realize it ends tonight?” James’s chuckle verged on delighted.

  “Looking forward to it.” McCabe glanced at Rowena then back. “It’s been a long time coming.”

  “A lifetime too long.”

  Tucked back in her pocket, Rowena’s phone vibrated. She glanced at the men in front of her. They weren’t looking at her, either of them. Neither was Bert. For the moment, her attention was fixated on James and McCabe.

  In a quick move, she whipped out her cell. She hid it as much as she could while she read the message from Dancer.

  Amanda says you need to open your heart.

  Open it all the way and see the whole truth.

  …

  McCabe studied what little he could see of Mockerie’s face. More than that, he tried to interpret his body language.

  Everything about the man in front of him was rippling with suppressed tension. Possibly borne of anticipation, but there was pent-up fury mixed in with it. An age-old loathing that would have nowhere to go but deeper inside, once he and Rowena were dead.

  He spoke to the woman who’d brought a screaming Mockerie into the world. “There’s no way for this to end well, Robbie. You understand that right?”

  “Yes, dear. I understand that. So would Robbie…if she were here.” The older woman waved her gun hand. “As I explained to Rowena, Robbie is dead, so if you’re attempting to appeal to her, you’re wasting both your time and your energy. Although I will say, I’m not without a certain limited affection for you. After all, we’ve had many a conversation when you believed you were talking to Robbie—may her soul rest in peace.”

  Mockerie snorted. “What soul? She was a useless, whiney female. What in God’s name Beckett ever saw in her is a mystery to me. As for Daddy Max…”

  “Leave him out of this, James,” Bert instructed. “You’ll only make McCabe angrier.” She returned the dark look James shot her. “Leave him alone to think with his dick.”

  From the wall, Rowena sighed. “Whatever McCabe feels, I don’t love him back, Robbie, Bert, whoever you are. I did once, but not now. He left me, and look how screwed up my life became? I’m done with men. All men. The only use I had for McCabe was to help me get my son back. Mission accomplished. Parker’s safe. Beyond killing me, what you and or James do now is irrelevant.”

  “Bullshit!” Mockerie swung around, his stance like that of a middle weight boxer. “You love him, and he loves you. And I’ll get the kid one way or another.”

  “No, you won’t,” McCabe said easily. “I was always better at hiding things than you were. And at figuring most other things out.”

  Mockerie began to circle. McCabe did the same. Anything to keep him busy and distracted.

  “You didn’t figure Bert out very fast, did you?”

  McCabe shrugged. “Not overly fast, no. But you have to factor in a great deal of emotional resistance. I love Robbie. I wanted her to be well and whole.”

  “Oh, Ryan.” Robbie’s voice reached him from her own set of shadows. “You’re such a devoted child. Save me now, please, as you did when I was locked in the attic. Save me, Ryan…”

  Jesus. Fuck this. McCabe’s head and heart threatened to explode. He’d desperately wanted to be wrong, wanted Bert to be someone—anyone—other than Robbie. But dammit, the truth was the truth. Robbie and Bert were one and the same person. He slammed the lid on the feelings that tried to punch their way through and swamp him. He needed to keep his mind and his emotions on track. He regarded Rowena, saw her toying with the heart she wore, and drew a calming breath. Robbie was beyond help. Rowena, the woman he loved, wasn’t. Couldn’t be.

  The circling stopped with an abruptness that signaled imminent danger.

  “Enough!” Mockerie’s teeth were locked so tight, McCabe was amazed they didn’t fracture. “I’m done with threats and innuendos. You want to know it all before you go under my knife, Rowena? Well, here it is.” Spinning, he took a furious stride forward. He was so focused on her that he failed to see McCabe’s fist—until it plowed into his face.

  Staggering sideways, he righted himself, reset, and swiped at the blood on the corner of his mouth.

  “Oh yeah,” he whispered. “Now here’s one of the things I’ve really missed.”

  And smiling with childlike glee, he dived at McCabe.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Rowena’s first instinct was to rush forward and help McCabe. To do something, anything, to keep the beast that James had suddenly become from tearing his throat out.

  She was halted after two running strides, however, by Bert, who had the .22 raised and held firmly in both hands. “Stop right there, Rowena. This is between James and McCabe.”

  This being a brutal kickboxing match involving one enraged man and one more controlled but equally willing adversary.

  Punches flew. Kicks landed. The light by the door flickered then grew stronger. Other lights joined it. Confusion mounted.

  Around them, music burst from a number of hidden speakers. It was Twisted Sister and it was deafening.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake. What’s this?” Raising her gun, Bert took aim at the wall. Three speakers went dead before she whipped the barrel back down into Rowena’s face. “Very nice try,” she
shouted, then sidestepped as James staggered backward and almost into her arm. “But I still have three bullets left, and I’m a damn good shot.”

  Rowena’s breath came in deep pants. Out of the corner of her eye and still under oscillating lights, she saw McCabe land a punch on James’s jaw. James responded by lowering his head and charging.

  “Boys will be boys.” Bert took hold of Rowena’s arm, yanking her back to the wall. “Let’s let them play, shall we? They’ll wear themselves out soon enough.”

  “Or McCabe could just grab his gun and shoot James,” Rowena retorted.

  “He could, but he won’t.” Bert’s eyes gleamed with something akin to malice under lights that continued to dance and sparkle around them like a disco ball gone mad. “This is most annoying.” She waved the gun again. “I can’t believe James set it up.”

  Neither could Rowena.

  When she moved, she felt the heart brush the skin between her breasts. Her hand rose to close around it. As it did, Bert’s lips took on a bitter twist.

  “Even James loved Amanda.” She shoved the gun under Rowena’s left breast. “That bothered Robbie a little. Didn’t bother me. But I’ve always been curious as to why.”

  Rowena tightened her grip on the pendent. “Maybe even maniacs like strong women.”

  “Possibly. There’s no question James needed strength around him. He fed off it as a child. I’m surprised to this day that he didn’t suck McCabe dry. He certainly bled his father to death. As for Robbie… Well, she had me to support her. And to do the nasty things that unfortunately needed to be done.” Bending sideways, she stage whispered, “Like killing Max, for example.”

  When Rowena jerked, her laugh was one of pure delight.

  “I shocked you with that, didn’t I? In truth, James and I both had a hand in the deed. He drew first blood. I believe that was the night he forfeited what remained of his soul. I’m fairly sure his conscience had already taken its leave.” Her Grinch-like smile spread. “Why don’t you open the locket, Rowena, while the boys spend the last of their energy on this stupid brawl. I believe you’ll find what’s inside is the reason McCabe gave it to you, regardless of what he might have said.”

  Keeping her eyes on Robbie’s gun, Rowena ran her thumb along the crack until she located a tiny indentation. She used the tip of her nail to work the heart open.

  “Not bad,” Bert congratulated. Brows furrowed, she glanced up. “Stupid, fucking lights… It took me half an hour to open that locket when I tried.”

  Rowena ignored her. “Open your heart…” Amanda’s words rang in her head. Perhaps not her literal heart as she’d thought at first, but this one. The one McCabe had given her.

  Her fist tightened around it before she looked. There was something bad here, her instincts cautioned. But she had to see. Had to know.

  Taking a deep breath, she brought her hand up and uncurled her fingers.

  While punches and kicks flew around her, and the lights rose and fell, she took a precious moment to view what she held: two halves of a silver locket. One side was inscribed. The other contained a picture of two young boys. The inscription read: To Ammie with love from your nephews, Ryan and James.

  Jesus!

  Rowena’s gaze snapped up. “Ryan and James!” she whispered. “Ryan McCabe and James Mockerie. They’re both… My God! They’re both Amanda’s nephews?”

  Robbie’s smile was both impish and glacial. “Oh, it’s much worse than that, my dear. Much, much worse.”

  Rowena’s mind reeled. They were related! James and McCabe. Faces shot through her head. Amanda’s and Robbie’s. Robbie’s…

  Robbie was James’s mother. If Amanda was their aunt, then chances were… Jesus, was that even possible?

  Robbie continued to smile. “I think you’re catching on, my dear. James and Ryan weren’t friends who became enemies. They’re brothers.”

  …

  Despite the music, the now sparkling lights, and James’s dirty fighting, McCabe somehow managed to notice that Rowena was staring at the heart he’d given her.

  Was that shock he glimpsed on her face a split second before James’s fist collided with the side of his? Probably. But dammit, she needed to know. He’d evaded the truth long enough. Too long, if he were honest. Sadly, he had few qualms about honesty these days. Except, apparently, where Rowena was concerned.

  “Go down, you fucking bastard!” Mockerie’s breath heaved out. He’d lost his hat and his long hair was askew, hanging around his scarred and battered face. His eyes spewed hatred in silver-lit spurts. “You can’t win this. I hit one button on the phone in my pocket and this room is flooded with people. Heavily armed people, all trained to kill. Or cause pain, as the case may be.”

  McCabe danced away. “Go ahead,” he invited. “But think about this first. Which, if any, of your trained people are putting on this music and light show for us?”

  “I…” Mockerie’s mouth closed with an audible click. He stopped moving. “What the fuck have you done?”

  “Same as you would have if our positions were reversed.”

  Mockerie’s fingers curled into talons. “Tell me what you did,” he demanded in a low growl. “Do it.” He pointed a finger at Bert who obligingly aimed her .22 at Rowena’s throat. “Talk to me, McCabe, or the bitch you love is dead.”

  “I do believe he means it, McCabe.” Bert’s cheerful remark was like salt sprinkled on an open wound. “Even if he doesn’t, I might just do it anyway. Whatever it takes to end this farcical nightmare. James is sick and getting worse day by day, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. He’s functional, and even brilliant in some ways, but for all those moments of clever charm and normalcy, there are many, many more periods of rage and despair, of fits and ferocity. Killing isn’t a problem for me. I’m sure you’ve gathered that much by now. But torture is unnecessary.” She put pressure on the trigger and gave him a smug smile. “Say goodbye to the woman you love, McCabe.”

  “Shit!”

  McCabe made the only choice he could. He went for Robbie. And as he did he felt a blinding pain slice through the side of his head. The entire room began to spiral in on itself. He heard Rowena shout his name, glimpsed the startled look of shock on Robbie’s—or rather Bert’s—face. And then he was falling.

  An eternity passed before he hit the floor. His only thought was for Rowena. Her face swam in his mind, and all he could think was that he’d failed her. They’d both die here, and God only knew what would happen to Parker.

  He fought it, knew he only had seconds to react. He rolled to the side, then saw Mockerie’s grinning face above him. Mockerie shoved him back, held him down with a knee planted in his chest.

  “It’s done, you bastard.” Mockerie’s hair swung wildly around his ravaged face. “You’re done. Slight change in plans. I’m going to kill you here and now, get you the fuck out of my way. But know this, McCabe. Rowena is going to die slowly, and I’ll be chanting your name until she takes her last agonized breath.”

  He had a knife. McCabe had no idea where it had come from, but he knew where it was going. Closing his eyes, he made one last attempt to unbalance his opponent. Mockerie merely laughed and raised the hand that held the knife.

  Across the room, Bert’s features came clear. For an instant, her expression changed. The gun she held eased away from Rowena’s head. Her eyes went wide, her mouth dropped open.

  He saw Robbie at that moment. Only Robbie, no Bert. Her cry rose above the music. Shoving Rowena aside, she rushed forward. “No, James, don’t do it! Don’t kill your brother!”

  Mockerie hesitated, for less time than it took to blink. But it was enough, just enough for McCabe to twist around and ram his elbow into Mockerie’s throat.

  The weight on his chest fell away as Mockerie tumbled sideways. Choking and clutching his throat, he tried to regain his feet. McCabe did the same. He spotted the object Mockerie had used to strike him. It was a white marble paperweight in the shape of a coiled snake.

&nb
sp; Grabbing it, he brought the snake around in the direction of Mockerie’s face. He hit something, but his vision was too blurred to see what. He dropped to his knees, unable to absorb much of anything. Lights continued to flash, music blared, and someone shouted his name.

  “McCabe!”

  He shook it off; he had to for Rowena’s sake. Mockerie was down and unconscious. McCabe didn’t think much separated them in that way at the moment.

  “McCabe!” There was an urgent plea in Rowena’s voice. “I can’t help you. I’ve got Robbie. Can you hear me? I’ve got Robbie. Or Bert. I’m not sure which.”

  Robbie… McCabe breathed out. He needed to think of her that way. Rowena had her.

  It took an enormous effort, but he forced his mind to function. Not all the way, just enough to shove back upright and focus his gaze on her. Robbie was lying on the floor, fully conscious and unmoving, with the barrel of her own .22 gun being pressed into the back of her neck by Rowena.

  “Are you okay?” Rowena asked him. She had her left knee pushed into Robbie’s spine. “I can’t move, and I don’t want to hurt her.

  “Fuck that,” the woman on the floor snarled.

  So Bert was back. Deep down, she’d probably never left, not all the way, for years. But for a moment, just long enough to distract Mockerie, Robbie had managed to claw through.

  “McCabe?”

  Tuning in as much as he could, McCabe nodded. “Rope would be helpful,” he said. “I don’t suppose Mockerie has any kicking around in his perfect white dungeon.” He stripped off his shirt. “Can you hold her?”

  “She’s not really fighting me.”

  “Que sera sera, kids.” Bert turned her head to stare at McCabe. He saw the feigned innocence in her expression. “Come on, McCabe. Are you really going to send your loving mother off to prison?”

  He didn’t know what the hell he was going to do beyond tying her and Mockerie up and getting the fuck out of this bizarre whirl of light and noise.

  “Here.” Reaching into her back pocket Rowena produced a small knife. “I don’t know where the one James was holding went, but this will work to cut your shirt into strips.”